Sir Coquette
by V.M. Bell
Summary: There's something about Lily and James that frustrates Sirius Black so much. Where else better to vent than at Remus's? Light RemusSirius.


**Sir Coquette**

Remus Lupin knew that it was bound to happen, but when it did, it still made him jump and come out of his daze. As the flames swirled and spun in the fireplace on the opposite side of his living room, he set down his glass of Odgen's Firewhiskey, wiped his lips dry, and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. There was a fit of swearing and a very disheveled Sirius Black tumbled onto the water-stained hardwood floor.

Dog-like, Sirius shook his thick mane of hair, minute particles of dust floating down to the ground. He sighed and sank onto the coach next to Remus, reaching for the Firewhiskey and taking a long draught of it. "Dammit, Moony, could you do your Floo-travelin' friend a favor and clean that bloody fireplace sometime?"

"I will keep that in the back of my mind," Remus said, smiling. "So, where were you traveling from?"

"James's place, of course." He gulped down a bit more of the Firewhiskey before noisily banging the glass back onto the table. "And little Miss Evans was there."

"Lily?" Remus ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't seen her since we all left Hogwarts."

"Which, mate, was only two months ago," Sirius reminded him. "But, yeah, Evans was there. Charming and pretty, as usual, and blissfully oblivious to the fact her fiancée's best friend was standing there."

"You haven't failed to notice that she _is_ smitten with Prongs, right?"

"Of course not. Here, have some Firewhiskey."

Remus shook his head, holding up his hands in protest. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Ah, come now, Moony! You've lost all of your fun, if you ask me. Not being at Hogwarts takes the frisk out of everything, doesn't it? What's wrong with a few old friends having a nice drink?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, but the fact remains…"

Rolling his eyes, Sirius pushed the bottle into his friend's hands, looking at him expectantly. Remus sighed and downed a good –

"Hell, Moony!" Sirius's eyes glowed. "That must've been a quarter of the entire bottle. What a drinker you've become."

"I suppose I am to take that as a compliment?" Remus asked, his lips numb from the alcohol. "Anyway, how's Prongs?"

Sirius shrugged. "He's fine, I guess, but Merlin, he can't notice a damn thing besides Evans, including myself."

"What were they doing that was so important, then?"

"What do you think they were doing? They were flirting and giggling and whispering things to each other that I couldn't hear. Pass me that Firewhiskey. I need some more."

"You'll drink yourself into hell if you have anymore," Remus warned, but he passed a rather dejected Sirius the shimmering drink. "Were they flirting more openly than usual?"

"Yes, and in their own house! Madness, I tell you. Here, I'll show you."

Those last words took a few moments to register in Remus's half-clouded mind. "What?"

"Don't be thick, Moony. I'll show you what they were doing." He took one last shaky sip of Firewhiskey before the glass fell to the floor and shattered. "Shite. Sorry about that, mate. I'll clean it up later. Stand up."

"Going to show me something spectacular, Sir Coquette?" Remus slurred, roughly finding his footing.

"Would I show you anything else? I swear, they're nauseating to watch."

"Who?"

"Prongs and Evans! Pay attention, will you? So, anyway, whenever they're standing near each other, they have to do this. You're going to be Evans, all right?"

Sirius grabbed Remus's hands and slung them over his shoulders. He then placed his unsteady hands on Remus's waist and pulled him until their clothes were nearly touching. Remus himself wrinkled his nose; he was not yet so drunk that he could not smell the whiskey on the other man's breath.

"Then, they kiss, as in _really_ kiss."

Sirius's lips swooped fast and hard, burning the skin around Remus's mouth as he devoured him. In the white heat of that whiskey-tinted kiss, everything was forgotten. Remus tried to remind himself that he was Evans, he was Evans, and Padfoot was Prongs, but the lips that grazed his stubble were not James's lips, nor were the hands now running up and down his back James's. They did not belong to a girl either for no girl would be so rough or so frank. A small moan escaped his lips.

Remus stumbled backwards. "What do they do next?" he whispered.

Sirius pulled a small sack out of his pocket. He pried it open and pinched a dash of Floo Powder. "That, my friend, can be for another day."


End file.
